Jesus at Work

“I was brought up in a wonderful home in a small Midwestern town called Elkhorn, Wisconsin—America’s Dairyland. I have two parents who loved me, who were there for me. It wasn’t like some traumatic event happened to me, or I had a terrible life, and that’s why I turned to drugs and alcohol to make myself happy. That’s not my story. Drug addiction doesn’t discriminate—it can happen to anyone, no matter where you come from.

From the outside, you wouldn’t believe I’d tread down a path filled with darkness and sin, but God had a plan for me, for all of His people. Growing up, we went to a small Lutheran church where my mom was a Sunday school teacher. I didn’t have a personal relationship with Jesus back then. I went because it made my mom and dad happy, and it seemed like the thing you were supposed to do. Outside of church, I was involved in sports and activities to keep me out of trouble. Football was my passion, it was what I cherished, what drove me to stay out of trouble and do well in school. It was my god, propelling every facet of my life throughout high school and into adulthood.

But when football was gone, things changed. I started drinking and smoking weed. For someone who’d been so straight-laced, I really dove into this new lifestyle, thinking it was normal. When I went off to college, it got worse. I majored in drinking and having a good time instead of going to class. As my habits grew, so did the money I was spending on them. Naturally, I thought selling weed would be a good fit—it fueled my habit and fed my desire to experiment with more drugs. By the end of my first year, I was on the verge of getting kicked out and had started taking opioids like OxyContin.

Whether I was thrown out or left on my own, I went home that summer wondering who I was and what life was about. I was searching for something, but I didn’t know what, and it pained my soul. So I crammed that void with more drugs. Like many during the opioid crisis, I turned to heroin as my drug of no-choice. The next three years wreaked havoc on my life and my family’s lives. Heroin became my new god, demanding all my attention and affection. It didn’t matter who I hurt or what got in my way—I was going to get my fix, even if it killed me. I pleaded with myself and with God, begging for a way out. I thought I’d hit rock bottom so many times, only to find I could go deeper. Even a seven-month stint in jail wasn’t enough to stop heroin from being my god. I remember being in solitary confinement for a week, withdrawing from heroin, begging to die, for the nightmare to end. But then when I felt better and returned to genpop, I knew I’d use again. And I did.

Out of jail, I was back to my old ways. But God provided a lifeline. My family found a rehab that would take me, and my father’s employer lent us the money to send me to one of the best treatment centers in the country. I thought I was headed to a posh facility for a 30-day vacation, hoping to come out good as new. Instead, I arrived at a ranch in Manor, Texas, that became my home for five months.

At first, I wasn’t happy and didn’t want to follow the program. But God softened my heart and led me to a morning prayer circle. Nobody there believed in Jesus; everyone was searching for a god of their own making, but I was learning about the one true God—His name was Jesus. Later, a fellow resident’s grandfather, a preacher from West Texas, visited and gifted me a Bible. He told me to read it. From then on, I read my Bible during study sessions and grew curious about this Jesus fella.

After treatment, I transferred to a sober living facility in Austin. Without the safeguards of inpatient treatment, I felt unfulfilled. I got a job, worked out a lot, but still had this longing. I wondered if a sober life was worth it. Then God stepped in again. At an AA meeting, someone invited me to Austin Stone Community Church. My first Sunday there, in a high school gym with over a thousand young people, felt like a rock concert. I’d never been to a church without an organ, but I felt something—God’s presence, though I didn’t know it yet. I went home exhilarated, wanting to go back. I never saw the man who invited me again; he had relapsed.

The next Sunday was Connection Sunday, and I convinced another resident, Bob, to drive me. We stayed after to meet people but felt overwhelmed and ashamed to talk to anyone. God brought David and Jordan to us, and they invited us to their Missional Community (MC). Our first MC was awkward—we’d never been around people who talked about Jesus so much, and we didn’t expect them to care about two recovering addicts. But they did. They poured into us every week. For six months, we attended MC, and two men from our MC met with us weekly, sharing the Gospel over and over. I’d say, “Are you sure I can be forgiven? I stole, I hurt people, I’m a criminal.” They would say to me “Yes, even you! The blood of Jesus covers it all.” They never shamed me, and their love for me and Jesus never faltered. The scales fell away from my eyes, and I saw Jesus for who He was and what He had done for me. I accepted Him into my heart and everything changed.

One week, they asked Bob and me if we wanted to get baptized. We protested, saying we’d been baptized as babies, but they explained we could choose it for ourselves. That night, they laid hands on us and prayed, and we agreed. We were baptized in front of the congregation, and my future wife, Kimmy, was there to witness it, though we’d just met. How sweet of God to ensure she was there to celebrate with me.

Over those six months, my relationship with the Lord grew. My fears of relapsing and returning to my old ways vanished. I wasn’t afraid of my past; I was no longer a slave to it. Jesus raised me to new life and defeated death for me. It was time to live for Him. Bob and I moved in together after the sober living facility, attending MC weekly and volunteering at a homeless shelter on weekends. We shared the Gospel there and at AA meetings, encouraging others to come to church.

It’s been over 12 years since I arrived in Manor, and God has blessed me richly. I have a beautiful, Jesus-loving wife, Kimmy, and three darling children—Charlotte, Evelyn, and Joshua. It hasn’t always been easy, especially when Evelyn went to be with Jesus. But God never left us. Even in our darkest moment, God and our community bore the weight of our pain. Reflecting on it all, I cling to the truth of God’s Word and the hope found in His promises. I love the words below from one of our favorite hymns:

When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soulMy sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought
My sin, not in part, but the whole
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord oh, my soul

Thank you for letting me share my story. It’s all for His purpose and glory.”

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17